


Moor of Teufel

by penrosewriter



Series: The Adventures of Janelock Holmes [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Backstory, Cute, Cutesy, Dark Sherlock, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s02e02 The Hounds of Baskerville, F/M, Feels, Fem!John - Freeform, Femlock, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Humor, Janelock - Freeform, John Watson - Freeform, John Watson is a Saint, John-centric, OTP Feels, Paternal Lestrade, Poor Lestrade, Sad, Sad Sherlock, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penrosewriter/pseuds/penrosewriter
Summary: Sherlock and Jane work to solve the mysteries of the mysterious hound...in Germany!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Officially able to start this story, thank goodness. Admittedly, I am a bit anxious about this story, since it is a bit of a change to have them going to an entirely different country for this. I also have never been able to Germany. If you have, and notice that something is askew, please let me know, and I will try and fix it. Thank you so much!

“Again?” Jane sighed heavily.

“Wish I could avoid it to.” John agreed heavily on the other line.

“Listen, I don’t care if Dad stands on his head and begs, but I already said no!” Jane snapped, pacing.

“You haven’t seen him since you were fifteen Jane! Just one day with him! One! That is all he wants.” John urged her.

“He just wants to be able to look into a mirror and say he was a good father. I refuse to give him even that.”

“…Do you ever plan on seeing him again?” John resignedly asked.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, Jane hung her head.

“Sorry. I…I have to go.” Ending the call, Jane brushed her hair back.

She knew she was a rotten daughter. Wasn’t much of a sister. It was petty, not wanting to see her own father. But… Hearing her phone go off, she looked down.

_Sent 10:32 AM: Taking Tube. Will be back in half an hour-SH_

“I would know, had you woken me up to finish the case.” Jane mumbled, putting the mobile down.

During the case, Jane had deigned to fall asleep at some point. When she had woken up, Sherlock had left. Jane made herself a mug of tea. Sitting at the laptop, Jane started writing up her new draft for the blog. Hearing the door downstairs open, she knew Sherlock was back. Hearing a loud thud on the floor, Jane knew he had returned.

“Go okay? Y’know for a dead captain…”

She turned around to see Sherlock holding a harpoon firmly on the ground. But, that wasn’t the worst of it. From head to toe, he was covered in blood.

“That was tedious. You’d think people had never seen a harpoon before.” Sherlock huffed.

“Uh…” Looking concernedly at his condition, Jane went back into the kitchen to go get a dirty towel.

“Hope that’s not your’ blood.” Jane said, running water over the towel.

“No. A pigs.”

“You harpooned a _pig_??”

“It had the ring inside it.”

“Ah.” Giving an irritated sigh, Sherlock unbuttoned his shirt, grimacing at all of the blood on his crème coloured shirt.

“And you went on the Tube, looking like that??”

“None of the cabs would take me.”

“Smart cabbies.” Jane sniggered, taking his shirt, and handing him the towel. Examining the blood on his shirt, Jane shook her head.

“This will be a fine thing to explain to the cleaners. Go get a shower, or Mrs. Hudson will faint at the sight of you.”

Nodding his response, Sherlock stalked off, grumbling something about stubborn pigs and Russian mercenaries. Shaking her head, Jane filled the sink with water and detergent before soaking the shirt. Once he was showered and came out, Jane knew it’d be one of those days. It all started two days ago, when he made a declaration to rid himself of nicotine patches. After strict orders to not let him get near the patches, Sherlock then continued to warn and pay off everyone in their acquaintance. 48 hours later, Sherlock was beginning to immensely regret it. Pacing back in forth, his harpoon in hand, he watched Jane read the papers.

“Anything?” He asked for the sixth time in a row.

Not letting her irritation show, Jane calmly flipped through the pages.

“Well, there’s a military coup in Uganda, if you want to book a plane ticket.” Jane sarcastically remarked. Glaring, Sherlock paced faster, throwing the harpoon from hand to hand.

“Some celebrity is getting married tomorrow.”

“Nothing of importance, it’s driving me mad!!” Sherlock finally exploded, slamming his harpoon down.

“Careful, you’ll dent the floor.” Jane dryly remarked, reading. When he was silent, Jane looked up.

“I need some. Get me some.”

“No.” Jane refused. Growling in irritation, Sherlock paced back and forth once more.

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the ground, pacing. Sit down.”

“No. And floors do not burn from people walking.” Sherlock retorted, missing her sarcasm.

“Sherlock, you literally just had a case!”

“Yes, but that was this morning! I need another case!”

“Look, Lestrade’s on vacation. You know a lot doesn’t come up when he’s gone.”

“Well he ought to get off vacation.”

“To satiate your boredom??” Jane huffed. Suddenly ducking down, Sherlock started digging around.

“What-what are you doing?” Jane asked, ducking a book.

“I need some!”

“Sherlock, no! You’ve been doing really, really well! This is not the time to give up!”

“Where did you hide them?” Sherlock asked her.

“What? The patches, or the cigarettes? I threw it all out.”

“No. There’s still some you kept around.” Sherlock declared. Having the starts of a headache, Jane tiredly looked at him.

“You could go and buy some for me.” Sherlock suggested.

“No. You’ve worked too hard, and I’m not about to let you go and mess things up.” Jane firmly stated, returning back to her newspaper.

Now beginning to look like a puppy, Sherlock looked as if he were pouting. “Please Jane.” “Forget it.” “Mrs. Hudson!!” Sherlock yelled.

“Oh, leave her alone, why don’t you??” Jane snapped as Sherlock looked around the flat again. Hearing her come up, Sherlock immediately looked over.

“What have you done with them?”

“With what Sherlock?”

“The cigarettes, where’ve you hidden them?” Immersing herself into the newspaper, Jane continued reading. When Harry was on drugs and such, he always used to hide his things in his shoes as well. It wasn’t that hard to find those cigarettes and flush them down the toilet.

“You never let me touch your things! And besides, you’ve lasted two days already.” Mrs. Hudson tried to soothe him.

“Now, why don’t you put that harpoon down, and I’ll make you a strong cuppa?”

“Tea isn’t strong enough. I need something 7 per cent stronger.” Sherlock grumbled. Giving Mrs. Hudson an once-over, Jane saw Sherlock’s deduction face come up.

“You’ve been to see Mr. Chatterjee again.” Sherlock observed, pointing the harpoon at her as if to stab her.

“What?” Mrs. Hudson squeaked, moving away from the harpoon.

“Sandwich shop. That’s a new dress, but there’s flour on the sleeve. You wouldn’t dress like that for baking. Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads, don’t we? ‘Kasbah Nights.’ Rather lascivious for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn’t you agree? I’ve written a little blog on the identification of perfumes, you ought to read it at some point .”

“ _Sherlock._ ” Jane warned, anger flashing in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He’s got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about.” Sherlock continued.

“Sherlock!” Jane snapped, standing up.

“I suggest you break this off while you have the chance.” Eyes filling with tears, Mrs. Hudson backed towards the door.

“Why must you always make things so difficult?” She wailed, going down the stairs.

Giving Sherlock an icy stare, Jane sat back down. “Well done Sherlock. Bravo. You certainly have a way with words.”

“I was doing her a favour.” 

“Yeah, by being the biggest prat known to England. You need to go down there, and apologise.”

“Apologise??” Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

“Apologise-by the Oxford dictionary, means to express regret for something that one has done wrong.” 

“I know what the word means. I do not apologise.”

“You ought to get into the habit.” Looking down the stairs, Sherlock felt a pang of penitence. 

“Now seriously, calm down. You are driving everyone in here insane.” With that, Jane started reading the sports section. Putting the harpoon down, Sherlock started to walk to and fro. 

“Don’t you have any case requests on your website?” Jane suggested. Opening her laptop, Sherlock pulled up his blog, and threw the laptop at Jane.

“Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I can’t find Bluebell anywhere. Please please _please_ can you help?” Sherlock recited, his voice going up higher to imitate a child. 

“Eh…Bluebell?” 

“A rabbit, Jane!” Sherlock snapped. 

Putting her hands up, Jane watched with half amusement, and half concern.

“Ah, but there’s more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous, like a fairy according to little Kirsty Stapleton! Then the next morning, Bluebell was gone!” Sherlock took on a mocking tone. 

Eyebrow raised, Jane waited for Sherlock to continue. “Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry...” Trailing off, Sherlock’s brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked him. 

“What was I talking about? Jane, this-this is brilliant!” Sherlock’s mood turned instantly.

“It is?” 

“Obviously! Contact Lestrade, tell him that we have a rabbit on the loose in Teufel, Germany.”

“Wait-you have got to be joking! You seriously want to go find some kid’s rabbit? She lives in _Germany_!”

“Unless…you feel as if we should be playing Cluedo?” Sherlock’s eyebrows raised, a lopsided smirk on his face. 

“Rabbit it is. I will never play a board game with you, so long as we both shall live.” Jane declared.

“Why not?” 

“Because, Sherlock Holmes, it’s not actually possible that the victim could have killed himself!” 

“But that was the only logical explanation!” Sherlock reasoned. 

“Well Sherlock, one, it’s a board game, it doesn’t necessarily have to make sense, and two, the rules said it’s not possible!” Jane fought back. 

“Well then the rules are wrong!” Sherlock furiously answered. 

Jane felt as if she were trying to reason with a two year old child. Rolling her eyes at him, Jane heard their new doorbell ring. Holding up her hand, she silenced Sherlock. Looking out the window, Sherlock grinned. 

“Maximum pressure just under the half second. Know what that means?” 

“Client.” Jane answered, racing down the stairs to open the door.

*** 

Jane noticed how Sherlock watched the client. While the documentary was interesting, it seemed very much for tourists. The farther in the video got, the more anxious Henry Knight seemed to become.

“…been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments. Genetic mutations, animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining.” The announcer dramatically said. Henry Knight then appeared on the Telly.

“Was just a little kid…just me and my father…It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father.” Henry was saying in the Telly, a German twinge in his English. Rolling his eyes, Sherlock shut the Telly off. 

“I was-was just about to explain what happened!” Henry stammered. 

“Yes, in front of a camera. I prefer to actually hear the story, instead of watching an edited version.” 

When Henry looked hesitantly over at Jane, Jane smiled and gave him an encouraging look. Hands shaking, he blew his nose on a napkin.

“Just…take your time.” Jane said gently. 

“But be quick about it.” Sherlock intervened. 

“You know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes?” Henry asked.

“No.” Sherlock shrugged with indifference. 

“It’s different. Beautiful….but bleak.”

“Don’t care, move on.” Sherlock waved the story on.

“Every night…when the sky got that soft pinkish colour, my dad and I would take walks. My mother always loved the sunset, and it made me and dad think of her…”

“Yes, fine, skipping to the night your’ father was savagely murdered, what happened?” Sherlock impatiently interrupted.

“Sherlock…seriously.” Jane shot him a dirty look.

“There’s a place. It’s a local landmark called Teufel’s Hollow.”

“German for devil.” Sherlock replied. Nodding, Henry drew in a quaking breath.

“And…did you see the devil that night?” Jane asked him. Looking her straight in the eye, Henry nodded. 

“ _Ja. Ja_ , I did.” Henry then described it. A mammal, with coal black fur and red eyes, mauling his father. Afterward, he’d run away, and they found young Henry, just wandering the moor. Jane felt so badly for the man.

“So…this animal…was a dog, or perhaps a wolf?” Jane asked him. 

“Or a genetic experimentation.” Sherlock sniggered. Henry’s eyes grew furious. 

“Are you…are you _laughing_ at me?!” 

“Oh, are you joking?” Sherlock asked. 

“My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville. About the type of monsters they were hiding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously.” Henry said indignantly.

“And…I’m sure that did miracles upon Teufel’s tourism.” Sherlock snidely remarked, looking over at Jane. It did very well sound like why everyone was buying Henry Knight’s story. Squirming awkwardly in her seat, Jane pursed her lips. A thought striking her, she glanced over at Henry. 

“Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?” She questioned. 

He seemed at his Whit’s end when he watched Sherlock smile. 

“Why should I tell you? Mr. Holmes finds my entire circumstance to be-laughable!” He spat, stalking towards the door. 

“If you go, then you’ll never know what happened last night.” Sherlock called over his shoulder. 

“How…do you know what happened last night?” 

“I noticed.” 

_Here we go again_. Jane thought looking up at the ceiling. 

“You flew here from Berlin on the earliest plane you could catch. The girl you were seated next to fancied you. Although you were _initially_ keen, you’ve now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I’d be delighted if you would.” Sherlock spoke rapidly. Watching Henry blink in amazement, Jane silently willed him not to ask how Sherlock knew this. 

“How did you know that?” Of course, he asked.

“Um, y’know it’s not to import-” Jane was cut off.

“Your’ clothing suggests you have been riding on a plane,”

“Sherlock…I think he was kidding when he asked.” Jane tuned out at this point. He was about to delve into five minutes’ worth or deduction, and cram it into thirty seconds. She did love to hear it though. He spoke to fast for anyone to really hear, but she loved the way he lit up when he rattled off those deductions. When he was done, Jane shook her head.

“You are just trying to show off.” Jane said under her breath.

“Naturally, I so happen to _be_ a show off.”

“That-was-so….you knew everything! Wow! Incredible!” 

Jane felt like she was watching a rerun of her first day in Sherlock’s company, the way Henry was acting. It was almost embarrassing to watch this. 

“Smoke.” Sherlock suddenly ordered. Reluctantly, Henry lit his cigarette. 

“Um…your parents’ both passed away when you were…seven was it?” Jane reviewed her notes as Sherlock folded his hands together and stared at the client. 

“Ja, it was…” Both trailed off as Sherlock started inhaling the smoke that Henry was exhaling. It seemed Jane was just going to die from second-hand embarrassment today, while Sherlock died from second-hand smoking.

“That sounds…quite…harrowing…” Jane did her best to ignore Sherlock.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that you perhaps might have invented the story? To cope with the pain perhaps?” As Sherlock leaned in to inhale again, Jane’s patience snapped.

“Do you mind??” Jane snapped. Once Sherlock sat down, Jane nodded for Henry to continue. 

“That’s what Doctor Mortimer says.” He said quietly. Assuming the doctor to be a therapist, Jane was about to continue, when Sherlock cut her off.

“Okay, this has dragged on long enough. Straight out say what you saw.” Sherlock urged. 

“Footprints. Footprints exactly where my father was killed.”

“Footprints. You travelled all the way to London, to tell us you saw footprints. What a waste of time.” Shaking his head, Sherlock got up and was about to walk away.

“Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a _massive_ hound!!” 

Stopping, Sherlock turned back around. “Repeat.”

“Those footprints were these-”

“-No, say it the _exact_ way you originally said it.” 

“Mr. Holmes…they were the footprints of a _massive_ hound.” Henry repeated himself.

“Very well, I accept. Thank you for your audience, you’ve been most entertaining, go back to wherever you came from, we’ll see you there tonight. Jane, go pack your bags, we’re leaving!” Sherlock called, shoving Henry out.

Going upstairs, Jane started cramming her clothes into her Army Duffel. She had learned it was best not to argue with travel plans. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to travel for this case.

Packing up, Jane thought more of the location. Germany. After the divorce, that was where her father went. Originally, her dad had worked in Germany. She remembered him always talking about Germany as it were the Promised Land. After the divorce, he never came back to England to see her or her siblings. It bothered Jane that she and John had just spoken on seeing her father again. But after that day, Jane swore never to see the man again. As far as she was concerned, Hamish Watson was not her father.

_On that depressing thought…_ Heaving her bag on her shoulder, Jane tramped down the stairs. 

“Yes…that’s correct, we’ll pick it up when we’re off the train. Yes. Yes, thank you.” Hanging up, Sherlock saw her approaching figure.

“We’re going to use a rental during our time there. Given it’s the country, it will be more convenient. Ready?” He asked her.

“Yeah. Let’s get going.” Jane said, going down to the door. 

“…You had no intention of going! And tell that to your wife too!!” Hearing a loud thunk, Jane looked over at Speedy’s Café, where Mrs. Hudson was now throwing plastic silverware and bread at Mr. Chatterjee.

“Ooh…” Jane cringed. 

“Good throw,” Sherlock remarked, opening the cab door for Jane. 

“A good thing I didn’t tell her about the other wife.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry on how long it has taken for me to update. I have hit the doomed "Writer's block". Fortunately, I am finally starting to overcome it. Wish me luck!

“I did not force you to do this, you chose to out of your own will.” Sherlock stubbornly said.

“Mn. I wasn’t forced?” Jane hummed, reading.

“No.” Sherlock snapped. He was crammed next to the window seat. While most people adored window seats, he hated them. Looking down at the scenery below, only reminded Sherlock how high up they were.

“Sherlock, I did say I could take the window seat.”

“Why?”

“Because you look like you’re turning a shade of green.” Sherlock was irritated that Jane had seen right through him again. He needed to change the subject.

“What is that?” Sherlock nodded at her book before snatching it.

“Hey!” Jane protested.

“Basic German. Interesting.”

“Since we’re going to be in Germany for a bit, I thought I might as well try and learn a bit.”

“Excellent. Say something then.” Sherlock said, closing the book.

“But I’ve only studied forty-five minutes!”

“That is enough time to learn at least a few sentences. Go on.” Sherlock prodded.

“ _Gutentag_.” Jane hesitantly replied. Waiting, Sherlock looked at her expectantly.

“…That’s it.” Jane said when she realised he was waiting for more.

“That’s it. Forty-five minutes of studying the book, and that is all you’ve taken from it.”

“Yea. Forty-five minutes of you whining in my ear! No wonder I only learned how to say ‘gutentag’!”

“Barely! Your pronunciation is appalling!”

“Then may I ask how your German is?” Jane haughtily asked.

 _“Die deutsche fraulein sagt sollte in der Hölle gesagt werden,_ ” Sherlock smugly replied.

“Sarcasm then. This is why you could never be a teacher, Sherlock Holmes.” Snatching her book back, Jane held it up to her face so Sherlock could not see her.

***

“You’re supposed to have taken a left.” Sherlock sternly said.

“Get off my back.” Jane snipped.

“Take a right in 2.3 miles.” Sherlock directed. Sighing, Jane kept her eyes on the road.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t need a backseat driver who-AGH!” Swerving, Jane tried to dodge something.

“What??” Sherlock looked behind them to see if she’d nearly hit a person, the way she screamed. But, it was only a piece of rubbish on the road. Three minutes later, she did the same thing. This time, they nearly drove off the road.

“Jane, STOP!” Sherlock yelled, making her slam on the brakes. Good thing this was a deserted road. Knuckles white, Jane clenched the wheel as if it were to disappear.

“Sorry, Sorry. I keep doing that on instinct, sorry.” She breathed, putting her head on the wheel.

In Afghanistan, it was not uncommon for bombs on the road to be disguised as rubbish. Reaching over, Sherlock pried her fingers from the wheel. He supposed that old habits would always die hard.

“I’ll drive. You navigate. I know where we’re going well.” Sherlock told her, unbuckling her. As they drove quietly, Jane looked out the window.

“Sorry.” She apologised.

“Sorry?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t be an idiot, you were being practical.” Sherlock sternly replied.

“Yeah.” Thankful that he wasn’t going to bring the ordeal up any longer, Jane stared at the map.

“Oh, up in a bit we’re going to get to Teufel. And then there’s Baskerville right next to it.” Jane commented, nodding at the map in her hands.

“Excellent.”

***

A tour guide was warning an enthralled group of tourists about something, Jane could tell. Beside the guide was a sign for his tours, which were painted in an ominous red. Staring out the window, Jane looked about. It was a truly lovely place, blue skies, and old Germanic cottages.

Besides the tour guide, Jane and Sherlock seemed to be the only fairly young people there. So much for attempting to not stand out. They also weren’t German, which would make their task all the more difficult. Getting out of the car, Jane and Sherlock pulled their suitcases out of the trunk and walked towards the inn. As Jane rolled her eyes, Sherlock lifted up his coat collar.

“Sherlock,” Jane smirked.

“You’re doing it again.”

“I’m cold.” He muttered, wrapping the coat tighter, proving his point.

“Alright, Batman.”

“Batman?” Sherlock frowned in confusion.

“A comic book character.” Jane explained, as they reached the inn. Taking a seat on the bench, Sherlock looked up at Jane.

“Get our rooms settled and get me a drink. I need to scope the town.”

“But-I can’t speak German!”

“I’m sure your book has something on ordering a drink and signing in to an inn. Try your luck.”

“Alright,” Jane resignedly agreed, jogging into the bar and inn.

“ _Good Afternoon, Fräulein, how may I help you_?” The man asked her. Frowning at her book, Jane read off the pages.

“ _Guten tag. I am here to get my room_.” Jane slowly read. Chuckling at her pronunciation, the man pointed at a piece of paper.

“Are you Watson, Fräulein?” The man asked in slow English.

“Ah, _ja, ja_ , I am!”

“It is alright, I speak good English. I studied abroad in England for a little while.” The man continued.

“Oh, nice. Good.”

“I’m here under the names ‘Holmes’ and ‘Watson’.”

“ _Ja,_ of course.” After handing her the keys, he looked apologetic.

“Sorry I couldn’t find you two a double jointed room.”

“Um, it’s okay. We’re not together, so…” Trailing off, Jane slid him the money for their drinks.

“Right, I’ll go get those.”

Peering curiously over the counter, Jane noticed a receipt. _Fleisch? Meat? Wasn’t this a vegan place?_ Suspicious, Jane grabbed the receipt and stuffed it into her jacket, as the man returned with their drinks.

“Thank you. I couldn’t help but notice on the map of the moor. There’s… a skull and crossbones?”

“ _Ja_. It Great Grimpen Minefield. Baskerville testing site. It’s been eighty year. I’m not sure anyone know what there anymore.”

“Weapons?” Jane asked, frowning.

“Not just weapons. Break in place and…if you lucky… you blow up. In case you’re planning walk with boyfriend.” When he gave her a knowing look, she laughed.

“No, I’m not up for a romantic stroll into a testing site. Interesting though, thank you.” Thanking him, Jane went to the door.

“Ah…one more question. Has anyone here truly seen this…hound?”

“Henry Knight!” The bartender threw his head back and laughed.

“God bless his demon hound! But no. But, Fletcher?” He nodded toward the tour guide.

“He’s seen dog. Ask him, if you curious.” Jane couldn’t ask him. She doubted the scraggly nineteen year old knew English. Seemed to Jane Sherlock was her source of communication here. Picking up their beers, Jane went out to find Sherlock was already sitting with Fletcher, who seemed to be trying to get away from Sherlock.

“Hey, I’m going to call Henry in a few…”

“- _Sorry Jane, but the bet’s off_.” Sherlock smiled at her. Frowning in confusion, Jane handed him the beer and sat.

“ _Ja?_ ” Jane asked, slipping into the act.

“ _What bet?_ ” Fletcher asked.

“ _That you couldn’t prove the hound actually exists._ Correct, Jane?” Sherlock said.

“Er, _ja_.” Jane remarked. 

“ _It does_!” Fletcher insisted.

“ _Your word is what proves it then!_ ” Sherlock sarcastically. Smiling angrily, Fletcher glared at Sherlock.

“ _Well then, gonna have to disappoint you. Because you’re losing this bet_.”

“ _Ja_?” Sherlock smirked, leaning forward.

 _“Ja. Only saw it about a month ago in the hollow. Here, I’ve got a photo here-hard to make out though, because it was foggy_.” Looking at the horrid quality, Sherlock shook his head.

“ _You can’t see it._ ”

“ _And-I saw footprints to._ ” Fletcher continued hastily.

“ _Oh, please. Footprints? That’s it?_ So sorry Jane, but you are losing this bet.”

“ _No, wait, wait, I’ve got more. Y’know…people do not like going up there._ ”

“ _Because it’s scary?? Ooh, how frightening. This photo, your word, is that the best you can do_?”

 _“I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go fishin’ but he took forever to come. Was white as a sheet. I can see him now. ‘I’ve seen things today, Fletch’ he said, ‘which I never want to see again. Terrible things.’ He’d been sent to some secret Army place. Rats as big as dogs, and dogs as big as horrors_.”

Unzipping his bag, Fletcher pulled out a huge footprint of a dog. It was amazing. The footprint looked the equivalent to a draught horse’s footprint. As Sherlock gaped at the print, Jane held her hand out.

“I believe you owe me something.” Wordlessly, Sherlock placed the money into her palm. As he smugly sauntered off, Jane and Sherlock exchanged a victorious smile.

“I have no idea what the two of you said, but it will get us somewhere. Besides, I believe I did a good job with my acting skills.”

“Hmm. slipping into the act, yes. Acting skills…no.” Reaching out his hand, Sherlock attempted to take his money back, which Jane drew back.

“If you think you are getting this money back, you’re wrong. I already had them send our bags up, so that in itself is worth some money.”

“Then c’mon, we have some work we need to do.”

***

"I can't believe we're doing this..." Jane muttered as they pulled up to Baskervilles Military Research centre. "

Well we are." Sherlock said as a cadet took his identification card.

"Yeah, we're getting caught in 5 minutes, tops. Someone is bound to find out you aren't Mycroft. And can I remind you, that I do not speak English?”

“Most of the people here do in fact speak English. Baskervilles requires it in fact. I discovered that in my research.”

“How did you get his card?”

"I ah...borrowed it. Figured it might be useful eventually."

"Yippee for you." Jane dryly remarked as the card was returned and they were waved forward.

“Mycroft’s name opens doors, literally. Who knew?”

“I told you he is the British government.” Sherlock replied. As he drove, Jane thought up more arguments.

"No one is going to let us 'just look around'. We can't just show up, and say 'why hello there! Can we look around at your attractions?' and they will just reply with 'Cheers mate! We even have a tour that will start in 5 minutes, here's a pamphlet!'"

"Are you quite through with your theatrical?" As they pulled up, Sherlock winked at her and smirked.

"Relax. Have a little faith, Jane. We've got twenty minutes tops, before Mycroft finds out, so we need to move fast."

“You think?” Jane rolled her eyes as she got out.

“ _Are we in trouble_?” Was the first thing a young corporal asked anxiously, running up to them.

“The correct question was ‘are we in trouble, sir?’” Sherlock haughtily asked in English, looking angry. Jane couldn’t help but think that Sherlock would loathe this man as a teacher.

“Sir.” The corporal answered slowly in English.

“Your ID showed up straight away, Mr Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong, sir?” He asked, frowning.

“Oh, I would hope not.” Sherlock answered, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes sir."

"Is there a problem, corporal?” Jane asked.

"No ma'am. We don't get many inspections though."

“Captain Jane Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.” Jane announced, showing her ID card. When the corporal saluted, Jane returned the same salute, and continued.

"I'm quite sure you are familiar with the proceedings of a surprise inspection."

“Major Barrymore won’t be pleased, Captain. He’ll want to see you both.” The corporal replied, frowning.

“We don’t have time. Lead on, and begin.” Jane said firmly. When the corporal shifted his feet uncertainly, Jane’s eyes grew colder as she drew herself to her full height.

“That would be an order, corporal.”

As he stammered and led them on, Sherlock muttered under his breath: "Enjoying the opportunity to pull rank?"

"Yeah, a bit. And the fact that someone here speaks English. I never knew how much I’d miss the language." Jane smirked.

The deeper they descended into Baskervilles, the shorter and dodgier answers became. If they asked for a number, no number was given. If they asked for information on what they did, the answer was aloof. Annoyed, Jane decided that if she were actually inspecting, this would end rather poorly for everyone. She had one concern however, and that would be Major Barrymore. Majors, Jane had learned early on in her career, were not people to be trifled with. Going to an animal testing sight, Jane looked about. Testing’s that were being performed on small animals, such as rabbits, squirrels, and so on.

“What exactly do you do here?” Jane asked, watching two scientists chat around a monkey.

“I thought you would know, as you are the one inspecting.” Corporal Lyons challenged her. If this was to go on a report, Corporal Lyons would not be getting a good one.

“Well, I’m hardly an expert in these matters.”

“Everything from stem cell research, to a common cold ma’am.” Lyons answered.

“What about weaponry?”

“Yes sir. A war ends, another begins. Must always be prepared.” Noticing one of the scientists by the monkey, Sherlock walked over.

“You…Stapleton.” Sherlock nodded at her, spotting her ID card.

“Oh, what’s this?” Stapleton asked.

“An inspection.” Lyons answered.

“I hardly remember the last time we…”

“-What is it you do here?” Sherlock asked her quickly. Jane noticed that they’d been here nearly twenty minutes. Obviously, Sherlock would want them to get out soon.

“I…am not free to say.” Stapleton answered, her English impeccable. At this, Jane stepped in.

“You most are free to, and, if you intend on staying free period, I order you to tell us.” Jane calmly said, her eyebrow arched. Looking at Lyons, to Sherlock, and finally at Jane, Stapleton thought of an answer.

“I…have my fingers in a lot of pies. At times, real fingers.” Jane was not overly impressed with this answer. Honestly, she wasn’t impressed with any of the base. To her, it seemed it was a bit ill run.

“Sometimes, involving glow in the dark rabbits?” Sherlock suggested.

“Why….what?”

“Made a little mistake, did we Stapleton? That was bound to happen, should you bring a lab animal to your own home as a birthday present.” Holding open a notepad, Sherlock waited for Stapleton. _BLUEBELL_ , it read in large letters.

“You….have been speaking with my daughter?”

“Why did Bluebell have to disappear? What exactly are you researching in Baskerville, Doctor Stapleton…”

“I…” As Stapleton looked helplessly at Lyons, Sherlock’s mobile chimed.

_Sent 4:15 PM: What are you doing? –M_

“Well, thank you for the tour.” Sherlock smiled and turned around to walk away.

“That’s-that’s it?” Lyons asked, following.

“Yup, good afternoon Stapleton.”

“Wait! I have a question for you!” Stapleton called after him.

“Jane, keep walking.” Sherlock muttered under his breath when she turned to look behind her.

_Sent 4:17 PM: What is going on Sherlock? –M_

“Twenty three minutes, my brother is getting slow.” Sherlock snorted. As they entered the elevator, Jane saw a doctor they had previously seen earlier.

“Hello again!” He chuckled and waved. Elevator stopping, Jane and Sherlock saw an angry man storm in, and Lyon’s swallow in fear.

Major Barrymore…that must be him. Jane thought with dread.

“This is ridiculous! We established Baskervilles so we wouldn’t have things like this!” Turning to Lyon’s, Barrymore’s face contorted even further.

“Why wasn’t I informed?” He roared.

“Everything is in good form, Major Barrymore. Dr. Jane Watson.” Jane introduced herself, saluting.

“I don’t care who you are, I want you out, now!” Gasping, Lyon’s, ran and pushed an alarm button, shutting the elevator down.

“Sir, I’ve just been informed there’s a security breach.”

“Who are you two really? Trying to find conspiracies about Baskervilles?” The major growled, hand on gun.

“Look-there’s clearly been some sort of mistake, if we could calmly figure this out…” Jane calmly said, casting a nervous look at Sherlock.

“Don’t worry Major Barrymore,” The old doctor said loudly, stepping up. “I know exactly who these two are.”

“Do you, Dr. Frankland?”

“I’ve been slow with faces, but I know who these two are.”

“Um, I-”

“-Good to see you again, Dr. Watson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this was a little difficult to keep up, let me know! I can most certainly try to clarify scenes in the future :)


	3. Looking for a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two look for a monster in the moor.

“Good to see you again, Dr. Watson.” Opening her mouth and closing it, Jane managed a smile and shook his hand.

“You-know her?” Major Barrymore asked suspiciously.

“And Mycroft Holmes as well, yes. I met Mycroft at a conference in…Brussels, was it?” Dr. Frankland trailed off.

“Vienna.” Sherlock corrected.

“And Jane here, well, I worked with her father, Hamish Watson. These two are who they say they are, there’s clearly been a mistake.” Jane looked at the doctor in shock.

Had he really known her dad?? Although Major Barrymore relaxed a fraction, the scorn in his eyes was still as strong as could be.

“Then…escort them out.”

***

“Thank you, Dr. Frankland.” Jane smiled as he led them out.

“Still, I wonder. What could Sherlock Holmes and his lovely companion be doing out here? I read your blog, and love it. My particular favourite was the one about the pink woman. Very well done.”

“Thank you.” Jane smiled, then looked uncertain. "Doctor...I can't help but wonder...did you work with my dad?"

"Oh yes my dear, many years back. In fact, every now and then we meet up and have a chat! When I found your blog, I knew that you were indeed his daughter! How has the poor sod been doing lately?"

The air seemed to freeze. Eyes smouldering, Jane forced a smile.

"I...wouldn't know actually." Jane smiled, trying to be nonchalant.

“This case…is it about Henry Knight?” Dr. Frankland asked, changing the subject.

“You know him?” Sherlock asked him.

“I knew his dad to. Had all these mad theories…good man though.” Noticing that Major Barrymore was glaring at them, Dr. Frankland dug through his coat and handed Sherlock a card. “My cell number. In case you need any help at all.”

“I never asked, Dr. Frankland. What is it that you do here?”

“Oh...all sorts of top secret. I’d love to tell you. But of course,” Waiting for the expected answer, Jane sighed. “I’d have to kill you!” Dr. Frankland cracked a hearty laugh as Jane rolled her eyes slightly.

“That would be tremendously ambitious of you.” Sherlock dryly said, not cracking even the nuance of a smile.

Smile fading to a cough, Dr. Frankland sheepishly looked down.

“Tell me of Dr. Stapleton.”

“Never speak ill of a colleague!” Dr. Frankland declared.

“Yet you’d speak well of one, which you’re clearly omitting to do.” Knowing they’d get nowhere, Sherlock sighed and raised the card slightly to show Major Barrymore that they weren’t trading national secrets.

“We shall be in touch.” Sherlock nodded at the doctor before pivoting around to head towards the car.

Once they were out of earshot, Jane shakily breathed out. “We…could have just been in some seriously trouble right now, you realise that.”

“Aren’t we always?”

“And all for a _rabbit_. Why did you want to investigate the rabbit anyway?”

Smirking, Sherlock turned up his coat collar making Jane snigger. “What?”

“Oh,” Looking innocently away, Jane smiled. “Nothing.”

“When you say nothing you always mean something. What?”

“Turning up your coat collar. You and your cheekbones, turning up your collar so you can look cool.”

“I do not do that. And what do my cheekbones have to do with me being…cool? You could have used better wording, Jane.”

“Such as?” She asked, getting into the car.

“Suave, aplomb-”

“-Are you telling me _how_ to compliment you?” Shaking her head, Jane pulled out the map.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Yeah you are. Where are we going?” Jane asked as Sherlock started the car.

“Henry Knight’s house. See what he knows.”

***

“Liberty. In. Only those words. That’s all I can see right now.” Henry sighed miserably as Jane furiously scrawled notes.

Putting his milk back in the fridge, Henry rubbed his eyes. Turning to look at Sherlock, Jane flicked her ponytail over her Sherlock.

“Mean anything to you?”

“Liberty in Death. A common expression.” Sherlock offered.

Closing her notebook, Jane put her hand to her chin as she looked at Henry. He seemed suicidal to her. He was nearly mad from this hound. It honestly would not surprise her to find him dead one day. But, that was why she was there. Sherlock was there to solve the mystery. She was there to save Henry. Nodding in agreement with Sherlock, Jane stretched.

“So what do we do now?”

“Come up with a plan. Tonight, you and I go on the moor…” Nodding in agreement, Henry startled a little when Sherlock’s gaze was fixated on him. “…And you are coming.”

“What-what? Why me?”

“So we can see if anything attacks you.”

Looking at Sherlock as if he suggested they run Mrs. Hudson over with a car, Jane shook her head.

“Sherlock, I don’t think that’s a great idea...what could Henry do?” Jane asked, silently willing Sherlock to drop this idea. Of course, it was Sherlock. And Sherlock Holmes would never drop an idea.

“What are you talking about? Jane, Henry is perfect!”

“What? What could I…” Henry trailed off, unsure.

“You would be the perfect bait.”

“Bait?!” Henry looked alarmed now.

“Sherlock, really. It’s a hound, he’s not actively out to get Henry.”

“After all of the cases you have been on Jane, it’s appalling how little you’ve learned. Of course Henry is being targeted.” Sherlock reprimanded her.

“Sherlock, it’s a monster, not a human!” Jane argued.

“Do you have better ideas?”

Truthfully, no. It wasn’t easy to find something that few people had seen. It was like searching for the Loch Ness monster.

“If it is a ‘monster’, we will at least be able to find the lair.”

Caving in, Jane shook her head and put her gun away.

“Okay. Some coffee before we start chasing this hound down.”

Jane noticed that Henry didn’t look overly happy with this arrangement.

***

“Your English is wonderful. Your accent sounds nearly English.” Jane complimented Harry as they drove on. 

“Thanks. Mum…my mum was from London. Grew up speakin’ German and English.”

Listening to them chat, Sherlock looked for the location. It was predictable of Jane to try and take people’s minds off of the horror in front of them. A commendable and condemnable trait of Jane. At times, quite helpful. Other times, it didn’t go as well. Today however, it was acceptable. Calming him down would help Henry to think more clearly.

“We’re here.” Sherlock announced, unbuckling.

“Alright…”

“Henry, remember there isn’t any shame in bowing out, okay?”

Jane tried to encourage him. Jane didn’t know how she felt about this. Who knew what could happen to Henry out here?

“No…for once, I want someone to believe…” Gripping the seat, Henry looked at Jane with such determination that she had to admire him. “That I’m not crazy!”

Nodding, Jane unbuckled as well. “Okay.”

Opening the door, Sherlock glared impatiently at the two.

“Well come on, we don’t have all night!”

Getting out, Jane pulled out her torch. Sherlock had earlier told her that Henry would be more likely to speak if Jane wasn’t there.

“I want to go ahead of you two. Call if you need me, okay?” Without looking back, Jane broke into a jog. Sherlock had earlier told her that Henry would be more likely to speak if Jane wasn’t there.

“Earlier today, I met a friend of yours. Dr. Frankland.”

“Bob. Oh, yeah. Nice.”

“You talk often?” Sherlock casually asked.

“Occasionally.”

“Seemed rather concerned for you.”

“Only one who actually cared about me, after dad died.”

“He knew your dad.” Sherlock commented.

“Yeah.”

“He’s worked at Baskerville for a considerable amount of time. Given the fact your dad was so suspicious of Baskervilles, did that present a problem?”

“Relationships stay through circumstance. Like you and the doctor.”

“What about us?” Sherlock asked, scowling.

“Two of you don’t seem very alike, but you fancy each other.”

“Hardly fancy the other. It’s rather obvious we don’t.” Sherlock raised his eyebrows and walked faster.

“They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad.”

“I see.” Going down even further, Sherlock noticed how Harry’s face grew more sallow.

“This…this is the place dad…”

And then, Sherlock heard it. A discernible howl. Paling even further, Henry gasped for air. Shining his torch to the ground, Sherlock saw the huge paw prints. Shining the light towards the howl, Sherlock swallowed hard. A hound. A hound so large, that he would not even believe it had he not seen it. Mouth opening slightly, Sherlock felt at loss of what to do. What could he do? His limbs could hardly move, his lips felt dry, and he could barely hear anything other than that ghostly howl. And then, it was gone. Just like that.

“Sherlock? Henry? What’s going on, I heard you shouting Henry?” Brushing wet leaves off his jacket, Jane looked concernedly at both Sherlock and Henry.

“There-up there! It was a hound! A hound!” Burying his face in his hands, Henry shook.

“Sherlock? What-?”

“He saw it! He saw that hound!”

“Sherlock?”

Straightening, Sherlock smoothed out his coat and stalked past them.

“I didn’t see anything!” Sherlock snapped. “And you didn’t either!”

“What? What are you talking about!?” Henry cried, before desperately looking at Jane.

“He saw it! I know he did! You have to believe me!!” “Let’s just go home, alright. I want to give something to you.”

***

Helping him in, Jane closed the door firmly behind her. Promising Sherlock she’d return later that night, he dropped her and Henry off. Taking Henry to the kitchen, Jane helped the man sit.

“ _Look, he must have seen it. I saw it-he must have. He must have. I can’t...Why? Why?”_ Henry stammered lapsing into German and trembling.

“It’s okay. Just relax, alright?”

“Why would he say that? It-it-it-it it was there. It was.” Getting up again, Henry paced back and forth, threading his hands through his hair. Pouring him a glass, Jane looked at him sternly.

“Henry Knight, I need you to sit and drink a glass of water.” Doing as she said, Henry shakily accepted the water.

“But this-this is good, isn’t it? Means-means I’m not-not a loon, not crazy.”

“Henry, stop. You’re not crazy, alright? I don’t think you are, and I am a certified doctor. You’re a bit tired though. I want you to take these.”

Accepting the bottle of pills, Henry looked at them.

“What’s it for?”

“Sleeping. You need it.” Smiling at him, Jane put her hand on his shoulder.

“We will figure this out. But I need you to promise something for me.”

“What?”

“That you won’t give up. Please. I need you to stay strong.”

“I-I’m not going to-”

“-Please Henry. Promise me.”

Letting a gust of air out, Henry nodded repeatedly. “Okay. I-I won’t.”

“Thank you.” Rising, Jane walked to the door.

“Goodnight Henry, we’ll see you soon!”

Stepping out, Jane looked up at the starry sky. Poor Henry Knight. Twenty long years of it. She remembered when her parents left her. Had they died, no. But, in a way, they had left her. During those times, the only thing that she had was John. Jane couldn’t imagine growing up with no family at all. She wondered what was wrong with Sherlock. Jane didn’t believe for an instant that Sherlock hadn’t seen anything. But if not the hound, then what?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is baffled at what he saw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to say this particular story has been kicking my butt a bit. Writer's block has honestly been severe with the story.

Entering the inn, Jane scoped out Sherlock. The eating area was a bit crowded, so it was a bit hard to find him. Seeing his curly hair over an easy chair, Jane went to the fireplace. Sitting across from him, Jane pulled out her notebook.

"Well....Henry doesn't seem too well. Whatever triggered Henry tonight, it did a good job. He is now convinced a beastly hound is actually prowling the moor." Jane sighed, sitting by Sherlock. Looking at the fire, Sherlock clenched and unclenched his fists. "While I was on the moor, I saw Morse code U M Q R A. I wonder if it means anything. Have you found anything that could pertain to it?" Jane grew quiet.

Sherlock's hands were visibly shaking, his eyes dilated, and was on edge.

"Hey...are…you alright?" Jane asked him, shutting the notebook. Breathing in and out through his nose, Sherlock looked as if he were going to cry. When Sherlock refused to answer, Jane hesitantly returned to her notes.

"We have footprints. And the tour guide saw it. Perhaps a few others saw it, so we could find more witnesses..."

"I saw it." He said quietly.

 "What?"

"The hound, I saw it." Listening to him, Jane nodded.

"A hound. In the hollow. A...gigantic...hound."

She had seen this before. Men in hospitals. They thought that they could see enemies on the walls, or in the windows, ready to attack. But it wasn't anything more than a shadow. After the war, Jane constantly felt this way. She jumped at every shadow, every creak set her on edge. Sometimes, when she walked the streets, she would think that one of her captors were a face in the crowd. Sherlock was afraid.

"We need to be rational about this. Why don't we stick to the facts, ok?"

"It was there, I saw it. Once you’ve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains-however improbable, must be true." Sherlock declared.

"What's that mean?" Jane asked. Hands trembling, Sherlock picked up his shot glass and watched the golden whiskey swish side to side.

"My body betrays me. I'm afraid. Look at me." Huffing a humorous laugh, Sherlock drained the drink.

"Sherlock, I..."

"What?"

"Couldn't you just have imagined it?"

"Imagined?" Sherlock echoed, anger flashing in his eyes.

"It was dark. It was quiet. You're _already_ worked up, it's not abnormal to see what your mind would like you to see."

"You-think there's something wrong with me?"

"When did those words leave my mouth?"

"I don't need words. Body language is all I need, and I can tell that you think something's wrong!"

"Of course you idiot! You are frightened!"

"Frightened?"

His hands went to his head, as if he suddenly lapsed into his mind palace. And he definitely was. Shaking, sweat, and his brow furrowed. Was Sherlock drunk?

"Hey, Sherlock..." When Jane touched his arm, his eyes jerked open.

"Listen to me. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!" Sherlock shouted, rising off his seat.

The inn fell deathly silent. There was even an old man watching them, the soup from his spoon pouring back into the bowl.

"CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?" Annoyed, Jane waited for Sherlock to re-seat himself again.

"I am afraid, so what? Normal, human reaction! An emotional one."

At this, Sherlock looked even more upset.

"Emotional. The sand in the microscope, fly in the ointment. I-can't have emotions, not on a case!" Sherlock bitterly muttered.

"Spock, calm down."

"I am perfectly _calm_!!" He all but snarled.

"You can't even think properly, Sherlock."

"Can't think properly? How about I prove it then, that I am fine, that nothing, absolutely nothing's wrong!"

Looking over at a mother and son, Sherlock ripped into them. Divulged into every nasty detail, every family secret he could see in a piece of pie they ate, or the sweater he wore. Every now and then, Jane would weakly throw a suggestion in, Sherlock would tear her theory apart.

"... I use my senses, Jane, unlike _some_ people, so you see, I am fine, in fact I’ve never been better, so just-Leave. Me. Alone." Sherlock snarled at her, his words fast and sharp. Hurt and angry, Jane stood up.

"No. Why listen to me? Just your dumb friend you like to keep around."

"I don't have friends! I don’t have lovers! I don't need them, and most certainly don't need _you_! Just stay the hell out of this case if you don't believe there even is one to solve!" Sherlock sneered.

"Alright. You don't have friends? Don’t have a lover? Well, I bloody wonder why." Jane quietly responded, before turning her back on him and stalking out. Slamming the door behind her, Jane watched her breath cloud in the chilly air.

Why did she even bother sometimes? Sherlock would get like this at times. Snap on her when he was vulnerable.

“God forbid you be human, Sherlock Holmes.” She muttered, her feet crunching on the gravel.

Rubbing his forehead, Sherlock looked out the window where Jane had gone out. Once again, the compunction of his harsh words came in droves. Clearly, Jane was only doing what she did best, and that was helping. Leave it to Sherlock Holmes to not see what was in front of him.

***

The next morning, Jane reviewed her notes. After investigating the Morse code she had found (which turned to be an awkward dead end), Jane had given up and went to bed. She wasn’t in the mood to handle Sherlock right now. Walking around, Jane finally found a war memorial. Sitting on the steps by it, Jane pulled out her notebook. Doodling a flower into the lined pages, Jane wondered if Henry was doing okay.

Hearing a rustle, Jane turned to see Sherlock coming towards her. Uncomfortably smiling at him, Jane settled for looking at her notebook once more.

“Good morning.” He finally settled on.

“Hi.” She glumly replied, studying her notebook.

“I trust you…slept well?”

“I did. Thank you.”

Twiddling with his thumbs, Sherlock sighed. “You found information on the code?”

“No. I-uh-it was nothing. It was silly.” Jane shrugged, closing her notebook.

“U M Q R A…” Sherlock hummed, thinking about it.

“Like I said, it was stupid.”

“No, you said silly last time.” Sherlock corrected her.

“I’m sure you are smart enough to get the gist of what I’m saying, Sherlock.”

“Still, you ought to be more conscious of your words.”

“What is this, small talk?” Jane asked, not having the energy to argue with him.

“Attempted…humour.” Sherlock offered.

“Being funny doesn’t suit you. I think you should really stick to being a block of ice.” Jane noted, standing up.

“Jane, wait. About…about last night. I…”

“Forget it. You were tired, I was tired.” Jane brushed him off.

"I don’t forget things. I meant it. I don't have friends.

" "Oh. Alright." Was this his attempt at an apology? It was rubbish in Jane’s opinion.

"I especially never had a romantic companion before either. Before you, there was no one.” Silent, Jane watched him as he struggled for what to say.

“What I said before is true. I don't have friends, and I don't have lovers. I only have you."

"You made it sound like you regretted even...wanting to...proceed with a relationship at all." Looking away, Jane exhaled through her nose.

"Regret it? How often do I do and say things I regret?" When Jane raised an eyebrow, he coughed.

"Don't answer that." At this, Jane gave a small smile.

“Something happened to me, something I’ve not really experienced before. Due to that, my behaviour was less than satisfactory.”

“Yeah, you were scared.”

“Scared? It was more that I experienced doubt.”

“Mm-mn. You said you were afraid.” Jane corrected him.

“No-no-no, it was more than that, Jane. A lot more than that.” Sherlock said, grabbing her shoulder to slow her down.

“It was doubt. I felt doubt. I’ve always been able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night.”

“Oh come off it. You still think you saw some monster?” Jane snorted in disbelief.

“I shouldn’t think that, but I still do.” Sherlock firmly said. “But I saw it. How though? How did I see it?”

“Sherlock, it isn’t entirely uncommon for people to hallucinate, night shadows can play tricks.”

“It wasn’t a trick of the light!” Her expression hardening again, Jane backed off.

“Yeah? I’m glad you have something to go off then. Best of luck.”

Sherlock then recalled he had told her to stay out of the case. Cringing at himself, Sherlock once again caught up with her.

“If you recall what I said earlier, about-uh-”

“-Staying the ‘ _hell out of a case_ ’? Yeah, I recall it quite vividly, thanks. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here right now. I don’t like Germany, okay?? There are people here I don’t want to see again. Ever again. And I still went, because I care about _you_! I’m sure you understand why I’m so angry!” She explained, clenching her fists.

“You were trying to help me, and I acted like an arse. Forgive me.”

He actually apologised? Raising both eyebrows, Jane looked at him as if he sprouted a third eye. Perhaps this case was getting to him too much.

“Okay? Thank you?”

Taking in the fact that Sherlock had done yet another uncharacteristic thing, Jane turned around once more and headed out of the garden.

“Jane? Jane???”

“Yep?”

“You-you are amazing!!!” Taking her shoulders, Sherlock gave her a kiss on the cheek and then spun away.

“Um-? Everything-alright?” Checking his temperature, Jane looked concernedly at him.

“Yes! Never been better! You are fantastic! You may not be the most intelligent being, but as a conductor of light, you are brilliant!”

Not sure if she should be flattered or insulted, Jane crossed her arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Sometimes people who aren’t geniuses, can stimulate ideas and thoughts into actual geniuses.” Sherlock babbled, scratching out something into his own notebook.

“You were apologising, and now you’re…I don’t know, what are you doing?”

“Setting an inspiration into motion Jane!” Finishing, Sherlock showed her the notebook. _HOUND_ Nodding at it, Jane waited for Sherlock to continue.

“What if…it isn’t a word? But initials?” Sherlock asked her.

“That-that’s brilliant!! That’s a great idea! You got that from the Morse?”

“Yes. We need to research what it means however.”

"Think it may be an acronym?" Jane asked, following Sherlock as they walked back into the village.

"I don't know. However..." Speech slowing, Sherlock looked as if he saw a female sumo wrestler. There was Lestrade inside the inn. Catching their eye, he gave a short wave, a hand on hip.

"What are you doing here, and why are you here?" Sherlock demanded, stalking in.

"Well, it's good to see you to! I'm on vacation!"

"You are brown as a walnut. Clearly, you’ve just returned from a vacation." Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"Maybe I just fancied another.” Lestrade nonchalantly shrugged.

“Now, what about this dog case?"

“Mycroft sent you. Didn’t quite feel like babysitting me, so he sent a gatekeeper instead. How nice.” Sherlock snapped at him.

“I think he means it’s nice to see you, Greg.” Jane said, joining Lestrade.

"Is that what you're calling yourself? Greg?” Sherlock huffed an annoyed laugh before turning on Jane. “We aren't undercover for God's sakes, there’s no need for false names!"

It took Jane a moment to decipher if Sherlock was being perfectly serious. Opening her mouth slightly, Jane was appalled at Sherlock.

"Sherlock...that's his name."

“I’ve known you for nearly five years!! You seriously don’t know my name?!” Lestrade asked, perfectly outraged.

"Well that's fantastic, great! But tell my brother to lay off and go back to London!"

"No, this could be good Sherlock. We might need Lestrade." Jane nixed Sherlock's suggestion with a firm shake of her head.

“Why would we need him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s think here. One, he is officially on the police. It wouldn’t be illegal to go and search people’s places if need be. Two, Lestrade has more common sense than you’ve had about certain things. I think it’s good here. If you don’t like that fact Sherlock, you are perfectly welcome to return home and let Lestrade and I handle the case.” Folding her arms, Jane dared Sherlock to disagree with her.

“Besides…” Digging in her pocket, Jane gave Sherlock a receipt. “I found something worth looking into. We need Lestrade to help us with this.”

“Meat?” Looking over at the eating area, Sherlock gazed at the receipt.

“Congratulations on learning some German, I was sure it would be of use eventually.”

“They have made it abundantly clear that this inn does not serve animal by products or meat.” Jane explained to Lestrade. 

“Wanna check in on that?” Sherlock asked, smirking a little. "Perhaps you _will_ be of use today, Lestrade." 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is a bit not good, and decides to play a bit of a trick on Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry I keep dragging my feet in writing this. I have had endless amounts of writer's block with this one, and life has been busy. Thanks for reading!

Sitting with the manager and chef, Lestrade grilled the manager on the receipt (the chef knew no English). Jane wondered what two supposed vegetarians were doing buying meat. She suspected they had keeping that awful hound alive. Hence buying meat. It made sense to her anyway.

“Coffee.” Sherlock said, handing it to her.

“You never make coffee. _Ever_.” When Sherlock gave her a wounded expression, she sighed and sipped it. Grimacing at the sweetness, Jane lowered the cup. She hated sugar in her drinks.

“You don’t have to keep apologising to me about earlier. I forgave you, its fine.” Sipping the coffee again, Jane forced herself to swallow.

“It’s good. Thank you Sherlock.” Nodding, they watched Lestrade interrogate away.

“ _I’m sorry, Gary-I-couldn’t help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Cal’s wedding and one thing just led to another!_ ” Billy weakly said. Sherlock translated the sentence to Lestrade, making him raise an eyebrow.

“Well it’s understandable if it’s bacon.” Jane sarcastically whispered to Sherlock, making him smirk.

“Nice try. Why did you really buy that meat? There’s no way you could eat all that alone.” Lestrade dryly said, folding his hands and leaning in. When Sherlock translated again, Billy broke under the pressure.

“ _We were just trying to give things a bit of a boost! A great big dog running wild up on the moor! It was heaven-sent. It was like us having our very own Loch Ness Monster_.”

“An’ where do you keep this ‘Loch Ness Monster’?” Lestrade asked, raising an eyebrow.

“An old mineshaft. It was all right there.” Gary answered for Billy.

“Was? What happened to this Loch Ness?” Sherlock asked, folding his arms.

“We couldn’t control the bloody thing. It was vicious. And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, you know.” Gary trailed off. Jane was seeing irony in its purest form right now.

“Killed it.” Sherlock finished for them. Hanging his head in shame, Gary nodded.

“It was joke?” Gary tried to explain their actions, making Jane and Lestrade even angrier.

“Yeah, we’re all crying our eyes out from laughter right now! You realise you nearly got a man out of his bloody mind over this?!” Jane exploded.

Nodding in agreement to Jane, Sherlock looked back at them, making them even more uncomfortable. Giving them both a final death stare, Jane pivoted towards the door, Lestrade following suit.

“Ah, you know Sherlock…” Making sure he was out of earshot, Jane finished. “…Is actually pretty happy to see you.”

“Happy? Dun’ look like it.” Lestrade snorted in disbelief.

“Well, _secretly_ happy.”

“Oh yeah? An’ how would you know he’s ‘secretly happy’.”

“Oh, it shows on his face when you’re not looking.” Jane shrugged. When Lestrade grinned and looked ahead, Jane arched her eyebrow.

“What?” “Oh…nothin’. Just you two actin’ very much like a couple.”’

“Lestrade, I don’t think that is an entirely appropriate subject to bring up!” Jane said warningly.

“Just been noticing he’s been a lot more manageable since you came around.”

“But we aren’t-” When Sherlock walked up, the two changed the subject.

“You actually think they killed that dog?” Lestrade asked.

“No reason we shouldn’t believe that.”

“Well, not quite sure what I’d charge him with anyway. I’ll have a word with the local Force. I’m off for a bit! It’s good, y’know? Getting the London Air out of the lungs, while you two are on your own little vacation!”

“This is hardly a vacation, Lestrade.” Sherlock scoffed. Giving  friendly wave, Lestrade went on his way.

“So, was that the dog everyone’s been seeing?” Jane asked him.

“Yes.”

“See? Explains why you were so spooked Sherlock. That’s why you need to remember solid facts.”

“But that wasn’t the dog I saw Jane, I swear it!”

“Really?” Jane wondered if she should believe him.

“Yes. He had glowing, red eyes. Its entire body was glowing.” Deciding not to push the issue, Jane thought back to Baskerville.

“Are we going to head back and investigate Baskerville?”

“Obviously.”

“Using that phony I.D?”

“No. Mycroft owes me a little favour. Suppose this would be the time to cash it in.” Finding Mycroft’s number on his mobile, Sherlock dialled it.

“Why hello Brother Dear, how are you??” Sherlock sarcastically gushed away.

“What do you want?” Mycroft asked him, knowing full well what it is.

“Oh you know. I need it for 24 hours.”

“12.”

“24. Or are you saying you can’t do it?”

“You very well know what I am capable of, Sherlock.” Mycroft warned him.

“Prove it then.” Jane could tell Sherlock was enjoying this chat by the smile on his face and his taunting tone.

***

Entering the cold room, Jane looked around. When they said this room was cold, they meant it. Rubbing her cold arms, Jane examined the pipes, and looked about.

"Next room then..." She murmured.

This was the room for animal experimentation. Interesting. Sliding her access card, she went in. The moment she entered, blinding lights flooded her vision, and a terrible alarm shrieked. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to rid her eyes of the spots. When the alarms stopped and the room turned a hue of dark orange, she decided it was best if she left. However, when she swiped her card, a German word buzzed out. Jane assumed it meant she was denied.

"What-?" Swiping again, she was again unsuccessful. Finding Sherlock's number, she called him. He'd get her out.

"Sherlock, pick up, c'mon." She muttered. When it didn't pick up, she growled and put her phone away.

The room was filled with cages, covered by sheets. The room was so quiet, save a soft whirring of a few machines. It was too quiet almost. Hearing a rattle somewhere, Jane's heart begun pounding. Hands clammy, she tried to swipe her card again, only to see she was again denied exit. Looking at the cages, and the sound of scuttling, Jane decided to see what was under those sheets. Flipping open one, a monkey lunged at her, grabbing the bars that kept him from her. Shaken, she backed up a few steps.        Then, Jane heard it. A distinct sound of claws against a tile floor. Closing her eyes, Jane remembered how frightened Sherlock was. Perhaps he was right. Who knew if whatever was in this room was the hound? It was loose, and after her. She had to hide. Somewhere.

Looking under the sheets, she found an empty one. This was bad. Getting in, she closed the cage, made sure it was secure, and took her phone. Cringing at the sound of her own breathing, Jane tried to stay quiet as she called Sherlock.

"Hello? You weren't answering your phone, where were you?" He asked, much too loudly.

"Sherlock, it-the hound-" Jane was now trying to keep herself from having a full blown panic attack. Hearing the sound of a growl again, Jane swallowed hard.

"What? What's going on? Jane, where are you?"

"The hound it's in here-I-I-in the first lab we saw. I tried to get out, but-but my bloody card isn't letting me out."

"Jane?"

"You-have to get me out. It's in here, I hear it on the floor-and-" Hearing it growl again, Jane cringed.

"Jane, keep talking. I swear I'll find you. Just keep talking."

"I-can't-it'll find me!" She frantically replied, her voice hitching.

"Tell me what you see."

"Wh-what?"

"What you _see_. What do you see?"

"I-I don't know. I can only hear it." When she heard it move again, Jane felt a tear on her cheek.

"Jane?"

"Yeah, I'm here, I'm here. Please, you have to find me."

"It's okay, calm down."

"Okay...okay..." Taking quiet breaths, Jane moved further into the cage.

"Sherlock-I-can-can-see it." Seeing a shadow, Jane's heart beat so much it hurt. Her hands were sweaty, and she was pretty sure she was crying right now. Suddenly, the sheet was pulled off. Giving a startled cry, Jane's gun was out and loaded.

"Jane!" Cage opening, Jane was pulled out.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked, searching to see if she was injured.

"A hound! It was in here Sherlock, it was right there! Right here!!" Hyperventilating, Jane felt awful, getting up and pacing in circles.

She felt like she had that day when she was locked in that awful box. It was cramped, splinters, heat. Jane was so afraid, she must have passed out. An animal, trying to get her, glowing red eyes, black, awful snarling, scratching. The memories were coming back like fierce images Jane couldn’t get rid of. The box, that horrid, horrid box.

“He-he’s going to get me-shoot me-no-no-no.” Jane whispered to herself.

Her captor wasn’t here to kill her. It was a lab, nothing could happen because Sherlock was here. Jane was safe. Noticing that Sherlock suddenly looked rather uncomfortable, she turned on him.

"It was here-I saw it. Did you?? You had to!" She laughed, hysterical.

"It's okay Jane, it’s okay." Pissed off and afraid, Jane pushed away from him.

"NO IT BLOODY WELL ISN'T! IT IS NOT OKAY AT ALL!!"

"What did you see?"

"The hound, I told you that."

"Red eyes, glowing?"

"Yes."

"Big, black?" Sherlock pressed on.

"Yes."

"No." Sherlock disagreed, smirking.

"No?"

"No. You saw what you wanted to see. What you're drugged mind wanted you to see. I told you what to see. We've all been drugged Jane."

"But...what was in the lab?"

"Can you stand?" Sherlock asked ignoring the question as he helped her up.

"Yeah, of course I can."

"Then let's go, we have work to do."

“You’re awfully calm for someone who nearly lost their partner to a hound.”

“Of course I was concerned. But you’re fine now, so c’mon.” Sherlock impatiently replied. Raising her eyebrows at this unusual reaction, Jane shook her head and followed after him.

***

“Back again? What’s on your mind this time?” Stapleton asked, working with a rabbit. Looking around the small room with the animal cages, Sherlock walked to the light switch.

“Murder. Cold blooded, murder.” Turning off the lights, Sherlock waited a few moments. Aghast, Jane looked at the rabbit. Somehow, this rabbit glowed in the dark. Flipping the light switch back, Sherlock watched Stapleton look down at the floor.

“Will you tell Kristy what happened to Bluebell, or should I? It’s entirely up to you.”

“Alright,” Stapleton resignedly said.

“What do you want?”

“I need to borrow your microscope.”

Putting the rabbit away, Stapleton took her card and motioned for them to follow her. Reaching a larger lab, Sherlock nodded at the satisfactory lab. Taking his coat and scarf off, Sherlock begun his work at the microscope. Hand under chin, Jane watched him work quietly. The adrenaline from earlier had begun to wear off, leaving her thoroughly exhausted. Sighing, Jane stared off vacantly into space.

“You okay? You seem a bit peaky.” Stapleton pointed out.

“I’m okay. Just a bit tired.”

“It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you’re interested.”

“I’m sorry?”

“In the rabbit.”

“Oh.”

“Aequoria Victoria, if you really want to know.” Stapleton said with pride.

“Why do you do that sort of experimentation on rabbits?”

“We don’t really ask questions here. It isn’t done.”

Thinking about _1984_ , Jane smiled wryly at this statement. When Sherlock’s brow furrow and his mouth set in a hard line, Jane knew he was becoming frustrated with whatever he was working on.

“A mix-up happened. My daughter ended up with one of the lab specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go.”

“Prodigious kindness. I feel a bit inspired now.” Jane wryly said.

“I know. I hate myself at times. I can’t even get my daughter a pet without something happening.” Stapleton sadly said.

“You can trust me. I’m a doctor. What else do you have here?”

“Imagine something for a moment.” Stapleton paused before continuing.

“We will most likely have it. I don’t even know what all goes on here.”

“Sounds a bit like a dictatorship, don’t you think?”

“Well…the pay is good.”

“ _Nothing_!!” Sherlock gave an aggravated shout.

“Digress on that.”

“There is supposed to be something in this, and there is not! It doesn’t make sense!”

“You aren’t making sense. What were you hoping to find?” Jane asked him.

“Drugs, obviously. There has to be a drug, a hallucinogenic or a deliriant of some kind. There’s no trace of anything in the sugar.”

“The _sugar_?”

“Yes, the sugar! It’s a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound, saw it as my imagination expected me to see it. But I knew I couldn’t believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics.” “So…what does this have to do with sugar?” Jane asked, to weary to listen to Sherlock go on a rant.

“Henry Knight, he saw it too but you _didn’t_. Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing. You don’t take sugar in your coffee or tea.”

“Yes, I don’t. Correct me if I’m wrong Sherlock, but you didn’t happen to try and _drug_ me, did you?” Jane asked, an angry smile growing on her face. Recognising that smile, Sherlock began to backpedal.

“However, the sugar didn’t work. It’s not in the sugar, so the question is how are we getting this into our system?” Getting up from his seat, Sherlock paced back and forth.

“There has to be something…something…something.” Pacing, Sherlock kept his eyes closed. Casting a concerned look at him, Stapleton frowned. Eyes snapping open, Sherlock pointed at the two women.

“Get out.”

“What??” Stapleton asked, scowling.

“Get out, I need to go to my mind palace. It requires my utmost concentration.” Exhaling, Jane nodded towards the door.

“Well, c’mon then.”

“What-what is a mindpalace?”

“It’s this memory technique he uses.” Jane explained, holding the door open to Stapleton.

“Memory technique.”

“Yes, he uses it to store information he might find useful.”

“He seems a bit mad to me.” Stapleton said aloud. When she noticed Jane’s expression, she flushed.

“I didn’t mean offence, I’m sorry.”

“No…it’s okay. Sherlock gets that a lot.” Sitting in two chairs, Jane was lost in thought for a few moments.

“So the two of you are…flatmates, is that correct?”

“Uh-yes, we are.”

“What made you come and live with him? How did you both meet?”

“We were introduced by a friend.”

“Ah.”

A silent vacuum filled the room. Jane, who had no desire to talk with Stapleton, looked off into the distance while Stapleton wondered if Sherlock would ever leave this ‘mindpalace’ of his. Door opening, Sherlock marched out.

“We need to go to Major Barrymore’s office.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my readers: Locking your significant others in a lab with a supposed hound can be a bit questionable ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Sherlock discover the truth about HOUND

Walking through the door to Major Barrymore’s office, Sherlock nodded at the door.

“Jane.”

That was all he had to say, and Jane knew exactly what to do. Nodding, she went to stand guard at the door, in case the Major decided to come back. Sitting at his computer, Sherlock searched for H.O.U.N.D. NO ACCESS. CIA Classified appeared on the screen, with a passcode bar underneath.

“If it shows up as wrong, Major Barrymore will be automatically alerted.” Stapleton warned him.

“I assume you don’t know the password.” Sherlock said, frowning.

“Only Major Barrymore does.”

Rising, Sherlock looked around the Major’s office. “Password, password, password. _You_!” Pointing at Stapleton, Sherlock nodded at the office. “Describe him!”

“Well, you’ve seen him! I honestly know him no better than you do!”

“Any description you can provide will do.”

“Ah…well…he’s a bloody martinet, a throw-back, the sort of man they’d have sent into Suez.” Stapleton said, scrambling for a description.

“Old-fashioned, a traditionalist, not the sort that would use his children’s names as a password. He loves his job, he is proud of it and this is work-related, so what’s at eye level?” Sherlock wondered, searching the titles of his books and photos at the desk. “Copy of _The Downing Street Years_ , one, two, three, four, five separate biographies of Thatcher. Jane, what date is this veteran?” Sherlock asked her, motioning at a picture of a younger Barrymore with his father.

“Hm…I’d have to say Falklands Veteran.” Jane replied, studying the medals briefly.

“Okay…” Sitting down again, Sherlock typed into the computer, backspaced, and retyped the password. Holding his breath, Sherlock hit enter, and was permitted.

“That was wonderful.” Jane grinned at him. Nodding, Sherlock looked through the information he could find. Finding a photo, Sherlock selected it. A black and white photo appeared, showing many young scientists, all with a sweatshirt called H.O.U.N.D. “Hang on…” Jane whispered, her face losing a bit of colour. Noting the change in attitude, Sherlock let Jane zoom in.

“Sherlock…that man there, that’s Dr. Frankland! And that one…he’s my dad.”

***

The computer couldn’t provide exactly what HOUND was all about. But Jane’s father could. After admitting her father lived no less than half an hour away, they were in the car and driving. Every mile they grew closer, the dread began to grow thicker.

"You don't have to go Sherlock. In fact," Looking out the window, Jane gave a small sigh. "I don't know if I want you to go."

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t seen him in so long. I…it won’t be a pretty reunion.”

“Are family reunions ever a ‘pretty’ situation? Furthermore, I will be able to pick facts up that you will not."

“You don't think I'm capable of collecting information?" Jane questioned, turning to face him.

"Not in this situation. You will be too carried away with your emotions to think clearly." He pointed out. Jane realized he meant no offence. He was only stating pure fact. Although it was the truth, Jane couldn’t help but bristle at his statement.

"No! I-will not! I barely know the man!" She indignantly defended herself.

"But you did, once." Sherlock countered.

_"Dad! Where-where are you going?? When will you be back?" Nine year old Jane asked, trying to block the doorway._

_"I-I have to go, Jane."_

_"But Mummy's crying! Help her Dad!" She pleaded._

_When he attempted to step past her, she clutched his suitcase. Looking into his eyes, Jane's hazel ones held a fierce desperation._

_"Please." Brushing past her, he went to his car. Throwing the suitcase in the trunk, he opened the driver's side._

_"Stop, please, please! You can't! Dad-Dad!" Ignoring her, he started the ignition._

_At the sounds of her wailing Mother, the indefatigable clutch on the steering wheel, something unpleasant brewed inside Jane. As he drove out of the driveway, Jane gathered up gravel._

_"Fine! Get out of here!!" Hurling the largest rock at his bumper, Jane aimed for his windshield._

_"We don't need you!!! I don't-don't need you! Go away! Go! You cheating, lying, awful, bastard!!" Chasing down his car, Jane cursed some more and then threw the last rock as hard as she could, barely hitting the car._

_"Jane!! Jane, stop it!" She heard John run up behind her._

_"No!! Let go of me!! Let go!! Dad! Da-ad!! Daddy!!!" Jane fought against her brother as he held her._

_"Calm down...calm down, alright?" John asked._

_When Jane got her breath back, she brushed away from John and walked a few paces ahead of him._

_"We'll be fine John." Jane whispered, fighting back angry tears._

_"Yeah."_

_"We're alone, aren't we?" She asked, turning to face him. John couldn't meet the nine year old's eyes._

_"Yeah."_

"We're here." Shaken out of her thoughts, Jane looked up at Sherlock.

"Yeah...I..."

She didn't know if she could do this. She still saw that car, retreating down the street, the father who betrayed and left her. The man who tore her family apart. Sherlock took her hand for a moment before reaching for the car door.

"Ready?" He asked, opening the car door and getting out.

"Yeah." Sherlock’s small gesture gave Jane a bit more courage to go and do what she was about to do.

The house was enormous. Well-tended gardens, balconies, huge wood doors, and stained glass windows. Taking a deep breath, Jane knocked on the door. A maid opened the door and ushered them in, taking them to a large sitting room. Sitting as if her back was made of wood, Jane's eyes held so many accusations and questions in them. When he saw how pale and angry Jane looked, Sherlock was glad he came. One, she would not be alone in this. And two, he really could gather the facts better. He had rarely seen Jane this upset.

"Jane." Walking in, her father’s mouth fell open.

"Dad."

"What...are you doing here? Why? Has something happened to Dolores?" He breathed out, looking at her as if she were a ghost.

"Mum's fine. I...needed to talk. This is my partner."

"Ah. Hello. Hamish Watson."

“Sherlock Holmes.” Shaking his hand firmly, Hamish quickly stepped back.

"Sit down, please. I can-make tea, or coffee."

"No thank you." Jane stiffly replied.

"So...I heard you've spent time in the military." Hamish awkwardly began.

"Yes."

"Where were you stationed?"

"Afghanistan."

"Did you really?? I assumed it'd be in the UK."

"Obviously not."

"Ah-yes-why did you come back from Afghanistan?"

Stunned, Jane looked as if the wind was just punched out of her. Did he seriously not know she had been in a hostage situation? That she nearly died in a hospital? That she was so gravely injured she had to return? He was her father, he at least should've known that!

"I-am not here to discuss the past. I want to know about HOUND."

" _HOUND_ …?”

"Yes. I want to know what exactly you did while you were involved with that project."

“How do you know about HOUND?” Hamish asked, scowling.

“Investigation.”

The clock ticked, resounding in the silent room. Sherlock and Jane watched the man struggle as he tried to provide an answer.

"This is top secret information, Jane. I can't-"

"-Can't stay in a marriage? Can't see your own kids? Had no idea I nearly died? You didn't even know I was stationed in the Middle East! After all you've done to us, to me, you owe me this! Tell me what you know about HOUND, _Dad_!" Jane's voice raised to a shout. When Sherlock merely glared at him, Hamish sighed, and rubbed his eyes. In the end, Hamish gave them the information.

“HOUND was created to stimulate paranoia, cranial trauma, Dangerous acceleration, and a state of unsafeness. We were to use it against enemies of the UK, if we ever needed to. However, it went wrong. Many of our patients went mad. Multiple homicides happened due to the drug, and we had to shut it down.” Harry heavily revealed the information.

Eyes burning with hatred and disgust, Jane looked at him, wondering why she had the misfortune to call him her father.

"Thank you. Then we won't take more of your time." Standing, Jane started walking away.

"Jane, please! We haven't seen each other in years! Won't you sit down and talk? I am your Dad!"

For so long Jane had wanted to hear these words. She wanted to hear him tell her how proud he was of her, how much he loved her. That he would never go away, would never leave her to live out her lonely childhood. But not anymore. Never again would she want that. Jane shook her head.

"No. No you're not. You've never been there for me! Never-loved me, or my siblings. Where were you, when Harry went to rehab, when he got married? John got married, his wife is expecting a kid! Your first grandchild! I haven't seen you in years. And whose fault is that?" She coldly asked, before she stalked away, leaving Sherlock to follow after her.

Once the car took them away, Hamish went into his study and closed the door. Shakily, he poured himself a shot of strong scotch. What had he done with his life? With himself? He realised it only now...after all these long years. What he did, was inexcusable, and disgusting. And there was nothing Hamish could do to amend this. Looking at a faded picture, Hamish sighed. It was the last photo they had taken as a family. A family, that would never reunite. 

"And whose fault is that...?" He whispered into the stillness of the study.

***

The car ride was dead silent. Jane looked out the window, her heart and mind going a million miles a minute. Every few seconds, Sherlock would look over at her. But Jane refused to meet his eyes. When Jane's eyes began to fill with tears, Sherlock swallowed. Seeing her so sad and hurt made him twinge. Pulling over, Sherlock looked over at her. Case or no case, he needed to see if she was alright.

"Jane...”

"...He-was supposed to be there for me. So why-why couldn't I be normal? Why couldn't I ever have a father who actually-actually loved me?" She asked slowly in a choked voice. Keeping her head away from Sherlock, Jane continued. "What did I do wrong? What did I do-to make him leave, Sherlock?"

"Nothing. Morons like your father don't care for anyone, save themselves."

Letting her tears drop, Jane sobbed. Unsure of what to do, Sherlock put one hand on her waist and the other on her hair and pulled her to him. Gripping his coat, Jane's shoulder's shook as she cried.

"I'm alone...he-he never was there for me...he left me alone..."

"You are not alone, Jane. And I am not going anywhere." Sherlock firmly promised.

Looking up at him, Jane looked surprised, before managing a weak smile. Pulling back, Jane wiped her nose and put her hand on his chest.

"Made a mess on your shirt."

"Water dries." Nodding, Jane took a tissue and blew her nose. His phone ringing, Sherlock picked up.

“Gutentag?” Listening for a few minutes, Sherlock nodded a few times and started speaking in German. Hanging up, Sherlock begun driving.

“What’s wrong?”

“Phone Lestrade. Tell him to get to the hollow. And to bring his gun.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s Henry. He’s in danger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you did not see that plot twist with Jane's father, hm? ;)   
> I hope you all enjoyed!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case draws to a close

Standing in the cold hollow, Henry watched the fog swirl at his feet. The hound had destroyed him. Took everything. His health, his sanity. Henry was a monster. A monster. Swallowing, Henry’s eyes swept over the moor. The last thing he would ever see would be the place where it had all began.

" _I'm sorry, Dad. Mummy...I'm sorry_." Henry whispered, putting the gun in his mouth.

"Henry!!" Seeing Jane run to him, he backed off.

"No! No, no no, stay away, stay away!!"

"Henry, I know. I know you're afraid, I know you're-"

"I know what I did! I'm not safe to be around anymore! I-almost-"

"Yes, I’m sure you do, Henry. It’s all been explained to you, hasn’t it – explained very carefully." Sherlock slowly said, extending a hand to him.

"Ex-explained??"

"Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you’d both clung on to, because you had started to remember."

"Remember?" Jane asked.

"Remember now, Henry. You’ve got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy."

"I-I-thought it got my dad-" Squeezing his eyes shut, Henry clutched his head with one hand.

"Oh Je...I don’t-I don’t know any more!" Henry gave an anguished scream and raised the gun again.

"Henry, you promised! Promised me that you would hang in there! I am not allowing you to break that promise, so put that gun down right now!" Jane ordered.

"Jane, I-I-I"

"Please." Jane quietly said, putting her hand over his.

“Try and think.”

“Henry, remember. ‘Liberty In.’ two words. Two words that a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago.” Sherlock urgently said. Wincing at the sudden pain in his head, Henry lowered the gun.

“You’d started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn’t an animal, was it, Henry? Not a monster either. But a man.”

Eyes widening, Henry saw intense flashbacks. Red eyes of a gasmask, someone strangling his dad. A sweatshirt with the word HOUND on it.

“You couldn’t cope…you were just a child, so you rationalised it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped. Driven out of your mind so that no one would believe a word that you said.” Sherlock continued, sympathy in his voice.

Holding her hand out, Jane carefully took the gun from Henry and drew back. Hearing leaves crunching and branches, they saw Lestrade running down.

“Sherlock!”

“It’s alright. Henry’s fine now.” Sherlock replied.

“But we saw it! The hound, last night. We sa…we did!”

“True, we did see a dog. But it is just an ordinary dog, intended for frightening witnesses.” When Henry’s befuddled expression grew to be more so, Sherlock felt sorry for him.

“It isn’t a monster.” Sherlock said again.

Hearing a howl, all heads and torches snapped up. Frowning, Jane looked up to where the howl had resounded and her mouth fell open.

“Sherlock…you’re seeing this to right?!”

A massive dog. It was so huge, Jane had to look twice. Red glowing eyes, and scars all over his body.

“No! No, no no no no!!” Henry gave an anguished shriek and backed up.

“Henry! Henry, it’s alright!” Sherlock tried to reassure him. As the dog grew closer, Jane felt sweat on her forehead.

“Henry isn’t drugged. None of us are, we are all seeing this! Sherlock, what is going on?!”

“Alright! So maybe the dog is still here!” Sherlock said, trying to help Henry.

Henry stopped screaming. Instead, he looked blankly up at the dog, as if accepting the fate he knew he’d shortly receive from it. As all eyes were on the dog, Sherlock then noticed a shadow. A shadow of a man, emerging from the fog in a gasmask. Going over there, Sherlock felt rage. Ripping the mask off, Sherlock felt his blood run cold. He was staring into the face of Jim Moriarty.

“No…” Sherlock whispered.

“No! It is not you, not you!” Punching him in the face, Sherlock proved correct. Dr. Frankland was on the ground, a hand to his face. Looking around them, and then at the gasmask, something clicked in Sherlock’s brain.

“The fog! The drug, it’s in the fog!” Sherlock yelled, covering his nose with his sleeve. Covering her mouth and nose with her hand, Jane tried to block out the drugs.

“Kill it! You have to kill the bloody thing!! _Töte es_!” Frankland shouted.

Shooting at him twice, Lestrade kept missing. Closing her eyes, Jane took a step back and shot with Henry’s gun, penetrating the dog’s body. A silence fell. Breathing hard, Jane watched the dog to make sure it was in fact, dead. When she was certain it was, she nodded at Sherlock. Pulling Henry up, Sherlock half dragged him to the dog.

“Look at it Henry! C’mon, look!”

“No! No!” Henry protested, his feet digging into the earth.

“It is just a dog. See?” It was a dog, but not a massive one.

There was no red glowing eyes, or scars all over his body. It was just an ordinary dog. Eyes filling with tears, Henry watched the dog. Henry’s heart was filled with a rage, a sorrow. Looking into the man’s eyes with a fierce vengeance, he charged him, tackling him.

“You!!! You!!! I-my life-life is ruined! Because of you! Because of you!!”

Sherlock and Jane were half tempted to just let him do this. Kill that awful, awful man. However, they hadn’t worked this hard for Henry to end up in bars. Besides, Lestrade was there. Meeting each other’s eyes, they conveyed the same message. Stop Henry. “Henry, you can't!” Jane grabbed Henry and pulled him away, while Sherlock did the same for Frankland, pushing him towards Lestrade to deal with.

“Why?? Why didn’t you just kill me-?!”

“Because Henry, dead people are listened to! Frankland had to shut you up! And he had the equipment to do it! Hallucinations! Every time you walked into this chemical minefield, you were drugged up!” Sherlock answered.

Henry stopped fighting. Looking at the ground, he crumpled in a heap. “I’m-I’m insane…truly…truly insane.”

“You aren’t Henry. You’ve only been deceived.” Jane gently said, rubbing his shoulder.

As Henry sat on the ground, and Jane at his side, Sherlock smiled as he looked down at the dog. 

“Ah-this case! This entire thing, from start to finish, has been just fantastic! Thank you Henry, it’s been brilliant.”

“ _Sherlock_.” Recognising that tone, Sherlock looked back at her. Eyes flitting down to the weeping Henry, Jane gave an exasperated sigh.

“Timing!”

Taking that cue, Frankland elbowed Lestrade and violently shoved away from him. And then, he burst into a mad run. He didn’t have a particular destination at first, but as he saw the actual minefields of Baskervilles, a desperate plan formulated into the doctor’s mind. He would run through the field. No one would be foolish enough to chase him there. Dodging under the barbed wire, he rushed onward.

“Frankland, don’t!!”

Hearing the detectives shout, Frankland kept going. Hearing a beep, and the feeling of metal underneath his feet, Frankland glanced down. A mine, directly under his loafer. Watching the people run up to him, his mind reflected to the hopeless case. His life was truly over. Nothing could save him. Nothing. Except... An earth rattling explosion rung through the still air. An explosion, and body parts of the former Frankland flew through the air. Heart hammering in his ears, Sherlock watched the scene unfurl before him. They were too late. He felt sick.

“Sherlock…are you okay?” He heard Jane ask, her warm hand on his.

“Yes…” Sherlock exhaled shakily. “Of course.”

“The police are here. They’re asking everyone questions.”

When had the police gotten here? Confused, Sherlock saw that there was an ambulance, and several police cars. The scene replayed itself over and over, as if it were his mother’s old record. Over and over again, Sherlock could hear the resounding boom shake across the land, the scene of Frankland bursting into pieces ran through his mind repeatedly.

Hearing a knock on the door, Sherlock was shaken from his sleep. When had he fallen asleep? Sitting up, he waited a few moments before answering.

"...yes." Door opening, he saw Jane coming in with a coffee cup.

"Got you some tea. Did I wake you?" She asked, setting it on the nightstand.

"No." When he saw Jane purse her lips and look down, he sat up a bit more.

"You're worried about me." Looking sheepish, Jane sat next to him.

"...yeah. You...just saw someone get blown up."

"It's not the first time."

"Sure, you've seen stuff like this in morgues, but you've never seen it. Not up close."

"And you have?" Sherlock said slowly. Smiling, Jane looked away.

"I'm an army Doctor. Course I have. But you aren't. I just...wanted to know if you're going to be okay."

"Of course.”

She didn't think he was telling the truth. Knowing it was like prying open an oyster, Jane sighed and stood up.

"Well...goodnight." Hand catching hers, Sherlock said nothing.

"What?"

"I saw him." He said quietly.

"You saw…who?"

“Jim Moriarty. He was right there."

“Sherlock...Moriarty was never there.”

“I know that!” Sherlock raised his voice at the remark. When Jane gave him a slight glare, he contritely continued. “Fear toxin. I know that.”

“What are you trying to say?” Jane frowned at him.

“It means…that I see Moriarty as a very real threat.”

“You already knew that. It just means that you’re afraid of him.” Jane said quietly. Sherlock’s unflinching gaze at the wall behind her gave Jane her answer.

“I’m sorry.”

“What have you got to be sorry for?” Sherlock scowled.

“That you’re afraid of being weak. The fact that you’re surprised that you’re afraid of Moriarty is something to be sorry. Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, and it’s nothing to be ashamed about. And you know how we can beat Moriarty?” Jane asked quietly. “Killing him.”

“No.” Pushing the blankets away, Jane took her shoes off and got under the covers.

“We keep living our life. Because he can’t take this away from us. You and I, I mean. This is something that Moriarty is able to take away.”

Sherlock took her into his arms and wrapped his arms around her. Hugging him back, Jane nestled closer. Leaning down, Sherlock’s knuckles grazed her cheek before he softly kissed her lips, his breath ghosting over her. Relishing in the sweet smell of fresh cotton and gun powder, Sherlock pulled away slightly. Looking up, Jane smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair.

“I love you.”

Surprised, Sherlock blinked several times. Giving a small sigh and a bit of a chuckle, Jane put her head on the pillow.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to answer. I just wanted you to know.”

When her deep breaths and slowed pulse showed she was asleep, he kissed her temple.

"Goodnight Jane."

***

“So they didn’t put him down after all out of pity.” Jane sighed. The warm breeze ruffled her hair as Jane and Sherlock sat outside.

“I see.”

“You just don’t see why they couldn’t bring themselves to do it.”

“Mn…no I don’t.” Sherlock agreed, sitting next to her on the bench. Laughing a little, Jane fiddled with her tea bag.

“Sherlock, what do you think happened to me at the lab? Because I wasn’t drugged, there isn’t a way I could have been.”

Ah yes. Sherlock had been hoping Jane wouldn’t ask this question. Instead, he motioned at her tea.

“Your tea will get cold.”

“I mean, I hadn’t been with you and Henry at the Hollow, and I didn’t have any fear or stimulus. It doesn’t make sense.” Jane continued frowning.

“Well, leaky pipes at the lab, some sort of vaccine in there, possibly. Er, would you like any sauce with your food?” Sherlock asked, trying to be casual.

“You were absolutely convinced it was the sugar. You even attempted to drug me with this said laced sugar!”

“Our plane is leaving later today. We need to make sure everything is packed and-”

Eyes narrowing, Jane looked at him and set her fork down. Cracking her knuckles, Jane gave him an ominous glare.

“It was you. You were the one who locked me into that lab.”

There really wasn’t any use denying it. Looking away, Sherlock shifted awkwardly. “Jane, I had to. It was for an experiment.”

“An experiment!?” Jane shouted, standing up. When they got looks from the other guests, Jane sat back down. Looking around to make sure no one was listening anymore, she turned on him.

“Sherlock, I’m not sure if you remember this tiny fact, but I have PTSD! I was trapped in a box in Afghanistan! What if I actually had an attack?! That would have been very, very bad!”

“You wouldn’t have had an attack Jane.” Sherlock huffed.

“Are you sure? Because I have had them, multiple times in fact.”

“Then one more won’t do anything to your record.”

Looking as if she had the sudden urge to bash his head in, Jane instead stabbed her sausages and potatoes.

“So why did you decide that me of all people would be the subject of this torture, oh right, _experiment_?” Jane nearly spat out these words.

“I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an average one.” Sherlock answered as if it were the simplest thing in the world. When Jane gave him another outraged glare, he gave her a look.

“You know what I mean. It isn’t meant to be an insult, just a general truth.”

“It wasn’t in the sugar however.”

“As I’ve stated.”

“Meaning…” Looking up at him with a smirk, Jane took a sip of tea.

“That you have just said you were wrong.”

“I was…a little off.”

“You were completely off! It wasn’t even related to the case!”

“It won’t happen again.” Rubbing her temple, Jane shook her head before returning to her food. Looking around, Sherlock caught the eye of Gary who looked away quickly.

“I’ll be right back Jane, I need to speak with someone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since there has been almost no fluff in this story (At all, I am ashamed of myself), I decided to write in that little scene. Besides, I am saving all the fluff (and pure angst) for the next installment ;)   
> Only one more chapter left!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deal with the devil is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter, but the only way I could think of ending it.

“Gary!”   
Ignoring him, he walked into the restaurant.  
“Gary!” Sherlock repeated, striding up to him.  
Avoiding his eyes, Gary looked down.  
“Is…that poor boy alright?”  
“Henry is fine.”  
“Is-Is there going to be police involved now?” He asked in a small voice.   
“Possibly, for tampering with evidence.”   
Head hung, Gary sadly looked at the floor.   
“However, I spoke with a few people. There will be no court case.”  
“Oh, God bless you Mr. Holmes!” Gary cried, vigorously shaking his hand.  
Nodding briefly, Sherlock moved his hand away.   
“The only advice I have for you now though, is to give Henry an apology.”  
“Apology?” Gary blinked.   
“Yes.” Sherlock replied, before turning and leaving.  
Perhaps Jane had affected him in small ways. He remembered sitting in the tense air, Jane and her father at the other’s throat. If her father had sincerely apologised for all the hurt and damage he caused, how much of their relationship could have been salvaged? After all Henry had endured, it would be a bit good to have an apology cast his way.  
Looking at the picnic table Jane had been at, he frowned in confusion when she had disappeared. The train was leaving in less than an hour, how were they to make it to the station in the brief time they had?  
***  
“I don’t know how to go on now, you know? Just-for so long, it was-” Henry huffed out a sob, and covered his face.  
Making him a mug of coffee, Jane set it down for him.  
“I would find something new to do. Find something you love, and pursue it.” Jane replied.  
“Like-like what?”  
“I’m sure you have hobbies. And I don’t mean to be blunt, but you have money. Take it, go see the world. Find new things out there.”  
Nodding, Henry looked up at the ceiling and covered his face with his hands.   
“Yeah…yeah. Jane…will Sherlock come here?”  
“Ah…probably not. I don’t think he does well with saying his goodbyes to people.”  
“Tell him thank you for me?”  
“Absolutely.” Checking her watch, Jane stood up. “I have to leave now. But you take care, alright?”  
“Thank you.” Henry said, with the first sincere smile Jane had seen from him.  
“Jane?”  
“Yeah?”  
“What…made you happy? I heard you…were…a soldier.”  
Hesitating, Jane thought long and hard before answering.  
“Someone who needed me. Someone who needed me just as much as I need him.”  
Opening the door, Jane looked back at Henry.  
“I hope you find someone like that, Henry Knight.”  
Walking out, Jane smiled to herself as she went along. She knew Henry would recover in the end. He had a strong heart, and a deep will to live. He would do just find. As she walked along the hedge, Jane saw a familiar figure approaching her.   
“Hello.” She greeted him, matching his steps.   
“We’re leaving in twenty minutes. Why were you speaking with Henry Knight?”  
“After all he’s been through, it’s only right that I go and see him.”  
“Right? You don’t have an obligation to do so.” Sherlock said, raising his eyebrow.  
“You know Sherlock…that’s the issue with you sometimes. You don’t see our clients as what they are. They are more often than not, our patients. People in need of attention and care. And you only care about the case, the game.”  
“A sentimental thought. But why should I care for people in general? Caring is an emotion the losing side feels. That’s what gets people in prison, that’s what motivates a murderer. They care too much, and due to that, they lose everything.” Sherlock replied, looking straight ahead.  
His eyes were a deep colour today. His eyes often looked like that when he was upset. Dark and gloomy, and many things racing through his head. Someday, Sherlock would truly learn what it was like to care and love someone. Maybe not now, but eventually. And Jane could only hope it would not be too hard of a lesson.   
***  
Staring at the wall with his blank eyes, Moriarty admired his handiwork. Everything was coming together now. And like the good fairy-tale it was, the villain would do his work thoroughly. Hearing the door swing open, Sherlock stared into the reflection of the observation window. Behind him was Mycroft. The perfect pawn he needed.   
“Jim Moriarty.”  
“Mycroft.”   
Looking at the walls, Mycroft suppressed a shudder. He knew what he was about to do. All across the walls, “Sherlock” was written.   
Looking into the deep eyes of Moriarty, Mycroft knew what he was about to do. A deal with the devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, end! Whew, this story kicked my butt. But now, here comes Reichenbach! I hopefully will have it ready to go in a few weeks. Anyone have any title suggestions for this upcoming one?

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it! If you got any of the nuances in the chapter, you may be hearing a bit about Jane's father. Thank you for reading!


End file.
